Through a Mirror, Darkly
by Murphy Himself
Summary: Victorious, Voldemort is faced with the reality of eternal life. He enacts a plan to escape the fate he has created for himself, but he'll need help from one Hermione Jean Granger.
1. Exordium

**A/N: My first fanfiction, how exciting! So...**

**Has anyone else wondered about Voldemort chucking his diadem randomly in the room of requirement? I know he's supposed to be oh so arrogant etc, but he's also supposed to be highly intelligent. Surely the fact that there are hoards of other bits of random junk in the room makes it patently obviously that A LOT of other people have been there before? So why wouldn't he instead have asked the Room for somewhere to hide his horcrux where _no one else could ever find it?_ That's what he did for the purposes of this fic. So Voldemort won; Harry, the only one who could have defeated him, was killed. Voldemort gets to live forever... but did he really comprehend the reality of eternity?**

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

**EXORDIUM**

_And I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also was a striving after wind. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. _**Ecclesiastes 1:17-18 **

…_you will linger on in darkness and in doubt as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell bound to your grief under the__ fading trees until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. _**Elrond; Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers**

5 billion years from now...

He stood upon a precipice; a lake of molten rock below his feet. Poisonous vapours curled into the noxious atmosphere. Consuming half the sky, the sun rose; an immense red giant, burning its way towards the earth. He turned and stepped into the shadow of a great red rock. His pale spider-like hand held a fistful of fine brown dust; the terror that had once gripped his heart was now a distant memory.

There was nothing left to know, no magic left to weave. The ever encroaching sun would consume the earth, destroying his body. But his horcruxes would remain, as would his consciousness; drifting in the vacuum of space until the universe died and matter itself broke down and all that was left was him and the drone of background radiation, forever.

He opened his mouth, and a mist of silvery strands issued forth, guided by his hand to merge with the dust he held. _Pulchra amicus,_ he whispered, and the dust glowed green for a moment. _Non salute aut necopi,_ a small octagonal box with a sliding lid, carved from solid obsidian appeared in his other hand. The now silvery dust was sucked into the box in a vortex. _Manu advena,_ with a hiss, the box sealed shut.

He lifted his weary eyes, mustering his will for one last spell. _Gebō__, ōþala, wunjō, raidō, _his voice reverberated off the bare rock, echoing as the runes carved themselves into the rock around his feet. The hot harsh wind whipped up the runic names in an inharmonic symphony, as the four runes glowed white hot against the volcanic rock.

_Fram Andweardnes æt ándaga__béo __forwracned,_ his voice deepened impossibly, rebounding louder and louder in a maelstrom of noise, until with a sigh, the black box vanished from his hand. The incantation died and the runes faded. He looked up over the desperate land at the colossal sun, a blazing clock against the sky, declaring the time not wrong or right.

oOo

Hermione hastened through the Room of Requirement as she, Ron and Harry searched for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. As she strode past a desk littered with fanged frisbees and other illicit items, something caught her eye. A small, black octagonal box glinted in the dim light. Impulsively, she stretched out a finger and touched the lid. It felt unnaturally cold, and hummed with an ancient power. As her finger touched the stone, the lid slid open.

Craning her head to glimpse the contents, she gasped as the silvery dust rose from the box like smoke. Before she could back away, the smoke was upon her, invading her mouth and nostrils. Fighting down panic, she tried not to breathe in, but her heart thudded painfully, lungs burning. She gasped reflexively, and the remaining dust was inhaled sharply.

Backing up frantically, spots danced in her vision and the room span wildly. She tried to call out to the others, but no sound came from her lips. She staggered for a moment, fighting the blackness climbing up to claim her, before finally collapsing to the floor, unconscious.


	2. Tabula Rasa

**A/N: This is the first chapter; it's quite a bit longer than the prologue (Exordium), so be warned ;). I should probably advise you also that there is some strong language in this chapter, as well as some violence and religious allegory.**

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

**One**

**TABULA RASA**

Hermione cracked open an eye. Sharp white light shot through her pupil and stabbed her mind. Her eye snapped shut again.

Her sluggish mind reeled; what had happened to knock her out? Her thoughts were jumbled and slow. She wiggled her fingers and toes, then moved a leg, and an arm. Everything was still in working order, then. Gritting her teeth, she brought her arm up to fend off the light, and opened her eyes once more.

Blinking rapidly, she sat bolt upright. She recognised nothing in her field of vision; how did she get here? The last thing she recalled was the Room of Requirement – the odd black box. She had been foolish enough to touch it, and the silver smoke had attacked her.

She looked around; green fields stretched out before her, undulating into the distance where they met with white sky. A wintery midday sun hung low over the landscape, bathing everything in a chilly silver light. A column of smoke rose from behind the hills, curling upwards; grey melding with white. To her left a forest loomed; ancient, gnarled and twisted trees with lichen smothering their hoary limbs. And to her right a small silvery river wound its way towards the horizon.

"Accio wand," she said. Nothing happened. Hermione hastily searched the area to no avail; her wand was not here. With a frown, she turned on the spot, but did not feel the familiar compression of apparation. _Was she dead?_ She didn't feel it, somehow. She had sensed her body's vital signs as she had lost consciousness.

She fought back a surge of panic. She was trapped here, wherever here was, whilst Harry and Ron were left to face Voldemort alone. She had to get back at all costs, and seeing no other option, she decided to explore.

Near the banks of the river she spied a black swan, observing her with glittering eyes. Cautiously she approached, but it did not shy away and made no aggressive move. Hermione reached out a hand and ran her fingers down the smooth, glossy feathers of its elegant neck.

"You're beautiful," she breathed. "Do you know where we are?"

The swan merely gazed back at her steadily. Hermione sighed and straightened up. The local wildlife would not be able to help her, so she turned instead to look at the column of smoke. Perhaps someone had made a bonfire? Having little else to go on, she set off in the direction of the smoke, following the little river as it wound through the meadows.

She walked for what seemed several hours, though the sun never altered its position in the cloudless sky. Hermione turned to see how far she had come, but there were no distinguishing landmarks to judge it by. Turning back, she noticed another swan navigating the river not far from her – or was it the same swan?

Shrugging her shoulders, she set off again towards the smoke, which looked to be beyond the next rise. As she walked, the beginnings of a tumbled down old wall sprang up to her left; the first signs of civilisation she had seen in this place.

Gaining the top of the hill, she looked down a cliff face to find the source of the smoke. There not far away was an old tower, burning. Hermione gasped; could there be people still alive in there? She looked for a way down; the river to her right streamed over the cliff and plummeted to a pool below, but Hermione could not tell if there were rocks in the plunge pool.

With a steadying breath, she decided that the cliff face was the safer option, as it was not terribly shear. Cautiously she began her descent, and it was not long before she stood at the base of the cliff and turned to look at the tower. Movement in the plunge pool caught her eye; another black swan swum serenely in the clear water.

Focussing back on the tower she noted the stones of its walls looked ancient, and foliage had run wild around it. It did not look like it had been inhabited in recent years. Biting her lip, she strode forward towards it; she could hear no screams from occupants, but she had to check the building was empty.

She was almost to the tower door when a shadow fell over her. She gasped as an icy hand grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, forcing her against the door.

"Get off me!" she gasped.

Her attacker forced his body against hers, pinning her to the door, his face against her neck. "So warm," he hissed; hoarse voice muffled by her bushy hair.

Hermione struggled, vainly trying to throw him off. "Get off!" she yelled furiously.

Her captor ignored her and began laying freezing kisses up her neck. A hand caressed her thigh, as the other closed around her throat, and a wave of panic surged through her. The man's lips found hers in a chilling kiss.

He gasped as if punched, as a fine silvery dust erupted from Hermione's mouth and invaded his own as he staggered backwards.

The man seemed momentarily stunned as he breathed in the dust, and Hermione took a good look at him for the first time. He was almost unbearably handsome, dressed in an off white robe; alabaster skin, dark, dark hair and eyes which seemed to burn with passionate intensity. Those eyes were now fixed on hers, searing into her mind.

"You're a witch," his voice was whispering wind.

It was not a question, and Hermione just stared back, transfixed.

A shout issued from the forest to her left, and the man's head snapped round; his keen gaze searching for something. "Run," he breathed, turning gracefully and sweeping towards the forest. "Follow me."

Wondering what madness drove her to comply, Hermione followed at a run. Before they had reached the trees a group of people had emerged a few hundred yards from them. Seeing the new arrivals, the man broke into a controlled run, gaining the cover of the forest. He darted dextrously between the trees, leading her deeper into the woods. Hermione struggled to keep up, stumbling here and there on stray roots and rocks. The sounds of their pursuers died away, and finally, out of breath, Hermione lumbered into a clearing.

There was no sign of the handsome man, and no sign of their pursuers. Shakily, she sat down upon a mossy boulder to catch her breath. Vaguely she wondered why the man had not passed out as she had when attacked by the dust. Her ponderings were interrupted by a calm voice.

"Loose someone?"

Hermione snapped her head up, and saw him, leaning casually against a tree observing her. Not in the least out of breath, she noted.

"Who were those people?" she asked raggedly.

"Muggles," he shrugged, his voice now smooth and melodious. "What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger," she replied automatically. "So why did we run from them?"

"Haven't you noticed that magic doesn't work properly here?" he asked, condescendingly.

"I haven't got my wand," she said defensively.

The man just gazed at her appraisingly, eyes narrowed in contemplation. "How did you get here?" he asked eventually.

"I opened a box," Hermione replied. "That silver dust that just jumped you attacked me, and I passed out."

"So you're not dead?" he replied quietly.

"I don't think so." She paused before asking "do you know of a way out of here?"

The man observed her, a calculating glint in his eye. "Do you think I'd still be here if I did?" he said.

Hermione stared back at him owlishly. "You were a Slytherin, right?"

He smirked. "How'd you guess?"

"Answering a question with a question," she rolled her eyes. "Typical Slytherin."

"Well," he replied, a devious grin on his lips. "It doesn't take an Arithmancy master to see that you're a Gryffindor."

"Is that so?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Fiery temper, antipathy for Slytherins," he ticked them off on his fingers as he approached her gracefully. "And foolish bravery in the face of mortal peril." He bent down to whisper in her ear, "or have you forgotten _this?_" His hand shot out and grasped her throat, thumb mercilessly crushing her windpipe, choking her. Hermione's fingers scratched and tore at his hand, drawing blood, but he smiled maliciously, ignoring her efforts.

Black spots punctured her vision, and the edges started to grey. Her lungs burned, desperate for air, but none was forthcoming. Unconsciousness swooped up to claim her for the second time that day, and her body went limp.

sSs

Hermione's eyes flew open and her hands reflexively strained against their bindings. She took steady gasps of air through her sore throat, and looked around, evaluating her situation. She was bound in the centre of an over grown courtyard, surrounded by the tumbled down walls of an old ruined castle.

Her captor reclined elegantly on a large stone block, silently observing her. "What year is it?" He asked.

"1998," Hermione replied shakily.

He stood fluidly and stepped slowly over to where she was tied. "Tell me everything that happened after the Chamber of Secrets was opened in 1992," he commanded.

"Who are you?" Hermione gasped.

"I think you know who I am," he smirked.

"Tom Riddle," she shuddered, chills darting down her spine.

Riddle smirked in affirmation. "Speak, and I may show you mercy," he hissed coldly.

"You're dead," she spat defiantly. "Even as we speak your horcruxes are being destroyed, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Riddle snarled furiously, "Is that so?" he hissed, eyes burning with wrath. "What part did you play, I wonder?" His fingers entwined themselves in her hair, and he yanked viciously. "_Well?"_

Fear bubbled up inside her; what would he do to her if he found out she had helped hunt down and destroy his precious horcruxes? She bit her lip, refusing to yield to the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

"Hermione Granger," he whispered. "I've heard that name before. You're Harry Potter's friend, no?"

Hermione swallowed painfully, her battered throat objecting. Riddle released her hair and took a step backwards, a calculating glint in his eyes. "How is dear Ginny these days?" he asked casually. "Still pining after Potter?"

Hermione eyed him shrewdly, fear fading into the background. "You're the diary, aren't you?" she said. "You're the piece of Riddle's soul that possessed Ginny."

"You are a bright one," Riddle chuckled, "for a mudblood." He added, derisively.

"You're one to talk about mudbloods," she spat back. "I know who you're father was, after all."

Riddle's eyes narrowed, but Hermione plunged on recklessly; "and what about your mother's family?" she ranted. "You should be grateful she bedded a muggle, else you'd be as stupid as they were and ugly as sin!"

"Why, Hermione," he whispered seductively, "do you find me attractive, then?" he ran a pale finger sensuously down her cheek.

She shuddered, ignoring the tingling it left in its wake. "Everything about you disgusts me," she said. "Your arrogance, your ignorance, your conceit. You're nothing but a self-deluded hypocrite."

Riddle's fingers closed about her chin gently as he turned her face to his. "Everything's so black and white in your world," he whispered. "It's rather charmingly naïve."

The moment stretched out as they held each other's gaze, neither willing to be the first to look away. Eventually Riddle straightened up and retreated. Without a word he turned and vanished into the shadow of the trees.

Hermione breathed in deeply, willing her pounding heart to steady as the tang of adrenaline faded from her mouth. Her hands were bound with cord behind a stake, and she began the long painful task of rubbing the cords up and down, slowly fraying them. As she worked, her mind wandered to the man who had just left. _Would they never be free of him?_ Hermione had thought it would finally be over if – no, _when_ – Harry defeated him.

_What a fool I was,_ she thought. _It will never be over._

How long she sat there, she didn't know. Time seemed meaningless here; the sun still had not moved; it was as though this world was stuck at midday forever. She had never thought she would yearn for night time, but under the cold glare of this foreign sun, she wished for some comforting darkness.

The crunch of footsteps brought her focus back, as Tom Riddle walked back into the courtyard, dragging a man behind him. The man was thin and weedy looking, with receding brown hair and small eyes. His hands were bound behind his back, and he glared at Riddle with fear and loathing. Riddle threw him to the floor and tied him to another stake, not far from Hermione.

Riddle set about building a campfire and soon a small blaze burned brightly in the glade. Smirking evilly, he picked a small branch from the fire, the end burning eagerly, and approached the man.

"Tell me, muggle," he said, eyeing the branch in his hand with interest. "Where is your base?"

The muggle stared at him wild eyed, but said nothing. With a demonic grin, Riddle suddenly thrust the burning branch against the man's chest, and he screamed as it burned away his flesh. Keeping the branch in place, Riddle repeated "Where is your base?"

Hermione looked away, her stomach churning in revolt. She couldn't block out the man's screams however, so she bit her lip and fought against the tears pooling in her eyes.

"South!" the man gasped. "Please, stop!"

"South where?" Riddle replied evenly, removing the branch and placing it back in the fire.

"I can't tell you," the man whimpered. "Please..."

"Please?" Riddle raised his eyebrow. "You _dare_ ask me for mercy?" He drew a knife from his robe, and approached the blubbering muggle. He crouched down in front of the wide eyed man, and stroked the flat of the blade across his cheek menacingly. "Perhaps I could ask you an easier question," murmured Riddle thoughtfully.

"Yes!" said the man. "Anything, please, anything else I'll tell you."

"Which," Riddle smirked, "is your favourite ear? Is it your left?" he placed the knife at the base of his left ear. "Or is it your right?" The blade switched ears accordingly.

The man began to whimper pitifully.

"But you promised me an answer," said Riddle in mock hurt. "I suppose I'll just have to take them both, then." He took his knife to the man's left ear, and slowly began an incision. He'd barely broken the skin before the muggle shrieked.

"Five miles!" he bawled. "F-follow the river, there's a copse of acacia trees; the base is hidden in the centre of the wood."

"Thank you, muggle," Riddle smirked. "You've been most helpful." Without another word, he flicked his wrist and opened the man's jugular. Blood splattered across Riddle's face, spurting with each of his victim's final heartbeats. The man gaped, eyes bulging, as his lifeblood drained from him.

Riddle sighed dramatically and stood up. "I really don't know how muggles cope with this," he said conversationally, wiping the blood from his face. "It's disgusting." With that he turned and left, leaving the dying man and Hermione alone.

Pulling herself out of her stupor, she began working on her bindings with renewed vigour, and after a minute felt them snap. Standing up shakily, she ran over to the muggle man, and knelt down beside him.

"Please," the man drew in a rattling breath. "Please, take my ring to my wife, Kate. Tell her what happened," he gasped. "Please, promise..."

"I promise," said Hermione, it being the only thing she could do for him now.

The man breathed his last, and with a deep sigh, Hermione closed his eyes and pulled the white gold wedding ring from his finger. Pocketing it, she stood resolutely. So, _even after they've been destroyed, the horcruxes are still causing pain and suffering, _Hermione though. _No matter, we've defeated him at every turn thus far, this time will be no different._

sSs

Hermione had followed the river five miles south, as the muggle man had described, and there, as he said, was a copse of acacia trees. Nervously she approached the copse, wondering what guards or defences the muggles had in place. She had barely set foot inside the small wood before her question was answered. Two men sprung up, one on either side of her, each armed with crude looking spears.

"Hands where we can see them," one cried.

Hermione complied. "I come in peace?" she tried.

One of the men snorted. "In pieces, more like," he guffawed at his own joke.

"Shut up, Kal," said the other. "Blindfold her; the Captain'll want to know how she found us."

The one known as Kal put up his spear and took a cloth from his belt. Hermione made no objection as he covered her eyes and led her away. It seemed like this 'Captain' the men referred to was the one in charge, and the one to help her in her mission against Riddle. Without her sight, Hermione stumbled slightly as she went, but before long her captors halted her. They lifted her by the shoulders as they carried her up some steps, and when her feet touched the ground again she could tell from the tiled floor that she was in a building of some sort.

The air smelled slightly of damp and disinfectant. Before long, they came to a halt, and Hermione heard one of the men gruffly ordering a subordinate to fetch the Captain. She was taken into a carpeted room, and her Blindfold removed. She looked around the area she was in; it was a morning room, with armchairs and a coffe table made of dark veneered wood. Everything appeared shabby and run down. The walls were grey and cheerless.

Presently the door opened, and in stepped a woman with stark white hair, carrying a long thin sword. The two men beside Hermione stepped to attention.

"At ease, men," the Captain spoke in a deep harsh voice. "Where'd you find this one?"

"She was in the copse, Captain," Kal said. "We think she was looking for this place."

"You, girl," said the Captain. "How did you know where to find us?"

"Are you missing any people?" Hermione asked. "A man, middle aged, brown hair, thin?"

"David?" The other man said. "Where is he?"

"Silence," the Captain demanded. "I suggest you tell us what you know girl, and how you know it. Fast."

Hermione recounted her experiences with Riddle, and how he tortured and killed the man she now knew was called David. She produced his ring, and held it out, repeating David's final words, and the promise she had made him. She only left out her previous 'acquaintance' with Riddle, and the fact that she was a witch.

The Captain listened to her words, and when she produced the ring, a flash of grief passed through her eyes. She took the ring, and said softly "Thank you for returning it to me."

"Kate?" Hermione gasped.

The Captain merely nodded. "You know where Riddle is based?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I can lead you to him."

The Captain suddenly looked suspicious. "His lair is concealed by magic, only those with magic can find it."

"Oh," Hermione replied, fighting to maintain a neutral expression. For some reason she felt it important to conceal the fact that she was a witch. "He kidnapped me and took me there. He said that he'd have to kill me, as once I've been there I could lead others back," she invented hastily.

Kate's suspicion appeared to abate, and she nodded thoughtfully. "He is there now?"

"Yes, I saw him go into an antechamber before I left."

"You will lead us to him, and we'll put an end to his evil once and for all," the Captain declared.

Hermione nodded determinedly; this was exactly the response she had hoped for, though a little voice in the back of her head was asking how on earth you could hope to destroy a fragment of soul which wasn't even really alive.

sSs

Hermione crouched in the underbrush next to the Captain; a stone's throw from Riddle's tumbled down castle, waiting for the scouts to return. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, trying to stave off the numbness threatening to send her feet to sleep. It was funny, she thought, how she always seemed to end up in these situations. Not really funny _ha ha_; more funny _peculiar_.

No, she was not at all amused at her predicament; it was even worse than normal in that she was alone, and had no access to her usual fall back plan: books. She was improvising; a half baked plan based on supposition and conjecture. Guesswork. She hated working in the realm of guesswork.

Her discomforting thoughts were interrupted by the return of the scouts.

"He's there," one of the scouts whispered to the Captain. "He's reading in the courtyard, oblivious. If we move quickly and quietly, we can take him."

The Captain nodded her thanks to the first scout, and turned her attention to the second, who was briefing her on the layout of the ruin.

In a matter of minutes, the Captain had issued orders for her men to split into groups and enter stealthily via the ruin's three entrances, preventing Riddle's escape. Before moving off with her own group which would enter via the main gate, she turned to Hermione.

"You should wait here for our return, it could be dangerous."

Hermione shook her head firmly. "I'm acquainted with danger," she said. "I have to face him."

The Captain appraised her resolute expression, and merely nodded, and gestured for her to join the main group as they filed silently up to the castle walls. They waited there for five long minutes, to allow the other groups time to assemble at their entrance points. The Captain risked a glance around the corner, into the courtyard, and turned back to her group, gesturing with her hand; _three, two, one..._

As one, the group sped through the gate into the courtyard. Up ahead, Hermione could see the other groups take their cue and pour in through their respective entrances. And in the centre, Riddle sat, seemingly indifferent to the events unfolding around him.

Hermione marvelled at his arrogance. _And his self control,_ a little voice added in her mind. Grudgingly, she had to admit that he was the epitome of grace and concentration, as he slowly rose from his set and turned his attention on the muggles who now formed a circle around him.

He smirked.

Kate stepped forward boldly, and addressed the sneering wizard. "You are surrounded, there is no escape. You will come with us and face justice!"

If anything, Riddle's smirk grew wider. "I'm afraid, Captain Kate, that you will find it is yourselves who are surrounded," he mocked. "But you won't be going anywhere..." he turned his attention to the main gate.

Hermione turned and saw with alarm that flames had sprung up, blocking the way they had come. She looked quickly to the exits the other groups had used, and they, too, were blocked with fire. Looking back at Riddle, she suppressed a gasp when her eyes locked with his. They looked strangely _two dimensional_.

"Trap!" the Captain swore.

Striding forward, Hermione thrust her hand forward to touch Riddle's shoulder, but it disappeared as it went straight through him. Riddle's image chuckled, "very good, Hermione," he said.

"He's an illusion," Hermione stated.

"Almost," he replied. "More a projection; a displacement, if you like. Come to the main gate, and I will let you through the flames. There is no need for you to die here."

Hermione shook her head, stepping back.

Riddle's smirk vanished. "Don't be a tiresome little Gryffindor," he hissed. "You won't help anyone if you die here today."

"What do you care?" said Hermione. "I'm a mudblood Gryffindor, after all. And I'm best friends with your arch nemesis. I don't think I'll be going _anywhere_ with you."

Riddle glanced to the side hurriedly at something Hermione couldn't see, before replying. "Don't be an idiot Granger," he spoke urgently. "Get to the entrance now. I can't hold back the flames for much longer!"

Hermione folded her arms. "Let us all out, or none of us," she said, resolute.

Riddle snarled furiously before his image flickered and vanished as the flames crept closer, now forming a circle around the muggles and Hermione.

Hermione stepped forward, picking up a twig from the grassy courtyard. Slowly she extended her arm, and held the twig in the flames. Immediately it caught fire and the flames eagerly sped towards her fingers. She dropped the twig and stepped back quickly, as the circle of fire crept closer.

Hermione swore. "I had hoped that the flames were an illusion too," she explained.

"Can we jump through?" a panicked voice shouted above the din of the roaring flames.

"No," the Captain replied. "The flames stretch all the way back to the exits; we'd burn to death before we could get to safety."

"Stupendous," said Hermione. "Fucking Slytherins. I'm going to haunt that bastard, I swear."

sSs

Tom Riddle examined the door in front of him. It must be some kind of cosmic joke that the muggles' base happened to be an exact replica of the wretched orphanage in which he grew up. And the doorway to freedom _would_ happen to be the doorway to his own room in said orphanage.

There were some historical inaccuracies, though, he noted. _His_ door, for example, had been made of wood, not stone. And it had had a handle. _This_ door had ancient runes carved around its periphery, and in the centre was an octagonal depression. That was evidently for _this_, he held up a small obsidian box in the form of an octagon, and calmly inserted it into the depression on the door. It slid in neatly.

Nothing happened.

Riddle tugged the box free sharply, and glared at it. Hastily, he tried again, rotating the box so it was a different way up. He tried it again and again, each time a different way up, until all options had been exhausted, and still the door remained locked. Reinserting the box, he began reciting words of power in every magical language he knew.

Twenty minutes later, Riddle's skin began to glisten with the first hints of perspiration. Removing the box once more, he moved it directly under a light. There, faintly, he could see the traces of a script, carved into the bottom of the box. Focussing intently on the writing, he failed to notice his company until he was surrounded.

"Hand over the box, Riddle," the Captain spoke.

Riddle's head snapped up; there stood the Captain and her entourage, along with the Granger girl. They all looked sooty, and Granger's bushy hair was singed in places.

"Granger!" he said, "give me your hand." He held out his hand to her, beckoningly.

Hermione just looked at it incredulously. "You really expect me to take that?" she asked.

"You need to trust me, Granger," he said earnestly. "I'll explain everything afterwards, just give me your hand."

Strangely, Hermione found herself considering it, but just as her hand began to rise, the Captain interjected. "Enough!" she said. Hands grabbed Riddle's arms roughly from behind.

"Take him away," the Captain addressed her men, then turned to Hermione. "Please follow me to my office, there are matters we must discuss."

Hermione nodded, following the Captain as Riddle was marched away. Her brow furrowed as she felt the presence of a small octagonal box appear in her pocket.

sSs

"I don't believe you are in league with Riddle," the Captain clearly wasn't one to beat around the proverbial bush, getting straight to the point. "However, you know more about him than you told me."

"Yes," Hermione replied, meekly. "I'm sorry for not revealing the whole truth, but it's a rather long story, and at the time haste was needed."

The Captain nodded. "I understand," she said. "But now I will need to know what you know."

Hermione took a deep breath, wondering how much information she could glean in return, then wondering when she had become so _Slytherin_. "Where I come from, Riddle is a powerful dark wizard. He is trying to take over the country I live in. My friends and I were fighting against him." Hermione glanced up, appraising the Captain's reaction. "He seems much weaker here, though, I don't really understand it."

"Magic is outlawed here," the Captain replied. "There are ancient measures taken against it. He has found ways around these measures, though, as you witnessed today. This is why he must be stopped, by any means necessary."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, relieved that she had kept her magic a secret.

"Riddle called you a Gryffindor," the Captain said. "What is that?"

"Gryffindors are a House which fights against him," Hermione replied. Well, it was _sort_ of true; most Gryffindors _did_ fight against him after all. "What will happen now?" She asked. "Can you keep him imprisoned? Stop him using his magic?"

"I'm unsure," the Captain admitted. "First we will attempt execution." Hermione silenced the uncomfortable squirm she felt at this, and focussed on the Captain as she continued; "if that fails again, we will attempt to bind him."

"Wait," Hermione said, brow furrowed, "you've tried to execute him before?"

The Captain nodded. "No methods we tried were successful; have any methods been attempted in your world?"

Hermione shook her head, the uncomfortable churning in her stomach becoming more insistent. "Which, um, _methods_ have you tried?" she asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear the gory details.

"Hanging, burning, drowning, bleeding," the Captain reeled off clinically. "Beheading, stabbing. Finally we bound him and pushed him from a cliff, but when we got to the bottom he was gone."

Hermione's head span. No wonder he wanted to burn them all alive. _No,_ she stopped herself. _No empathising with the Dark Lord. He's done all these things and worse to others._ She struggled to imagine the graceful and powerful Tom Riddle at the mercy of a bunch of muggles. "What did he do to you all to make you hate him so much?" she asked, curious about Riddle's agenda in this peculiar world.

The Captain's brow furrowed, confused. "Well for one thing, he tortured and murdered my David," she said.

"But that was after," Hermione said. "He must have done something before that; before you tried to execute him."

"As I said," the Captain replied, "he practiced magic."

Hermione swallowed nervously, "nothing else?" she prompted.

"Isn't that bad enough?" the Captain snapped.

"Oh, yes!" The uncomfortable feeling was back, along with a sick sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Its just he's done a lot of other things in my world," she explained. "So, what method of execution is left to try?" Hermione was not at all sure she really wanted to know.

"Crucifixion."

sSs

Hermione sat on the creaky bed in the greyish white guest quarters she'd been assigned, desperately trying to talk herself out of the plan that was rapidly forming in her mind.

_He's a murderer,_ she thought. _Cold blooded. Merciless. He deserves this._

_**All he did was practise magic, though.**_

_And torture and kill that man, David._

_**He was just trying to escape, and they've done worse to him.**_

_But think about who he is!_

**_They're no better, plus _this_ version of Riddle has only killed Myrtle, no one else._**

_Oh, is that all?_

_**And Riddle did offer to save you from the fire.**_

That was another curiosity; why did the fire die out as soon as it touched her? She had been so certain that she was going to die there, then the fire had just fizzled, and vanished. Hermione supposed that Riddle hadn't expected to encounter problems with that door, so thought that an hour's head start would be sufficient.

_**Ah, but why not just burn us all alive anyway? He let us go.**_

_And it seems that he knows something about that door, and how to get out of here..._

That settled it. Hermione lay back on her bed, closing her eyes. She would wait until nightfall, then enact her plan. Closing her eyes, she decided to get some sleep before then. It had been a long day, after all.

sSs

Hermione crouched in the bushes outside the austere grey building which looked so hopelessly out of place in the copse of acacia trees. Idly she mused that she'd had enough of fire to last a life time, as she kindled a flame in a pile of dead leaves. Carefully, she carried the burning pile of dead matter in her jumper as she crept back into the orphanage and up the stairs. Most of the muggles were asleep; by the time the fire was discovered it would be raging strongly. The diversion set, Hermione crept back down stairs to her hiding place outside the room where they were keeping Riddle.

She waited half an hour, then approached the room. She tried the door handle, but it was locked, so she knocked nervously.

Presently, a muggle opened the door a crack, with a gruff "What?"

"I thought I smelled something," Hermione whispered, trying to sound frightened. "It smelled like smoke!"

The muggle wrenched the door open sharply. "Stay here and guard Riddle," he said to someone Hermione couldn't see. "Where's it coming from?" he asked Hermione sharply.

"Up the stairs, to the left," she replied. "At the end of the corridor, opposite the guest rooms."

"The library," the man said grimly. "If there's a fire there this whole place will go up in smoke!" He strode off in the direction of the stairs, and Hermione seized her moment.

With a _crack_, she brought down a hard branch she had concealed in the night's shadows onto the back of the muggle's head. He dropped like a stone. Riddle's door creaked open again. "What was that?" hissed the second muggle.

"Help!" Hermione whimpered, desperately trying to sound terrified, without waking up the whole house. "There's someone out here!"

The muggle ran out into the hallway, presenting his back to Hermione who wasted no time in sending him down to join his comrade.

Huffing and sweating, guiltily she dragged their unconscious – she hoped they were just unconscious but was too terrified to check – bodies back into the room one by one, before turning to look for her quarry.

She gasped as her eyes fell on him. "Riddle?"

The muggles hadn't wasted any time. He was naked from the waist up, stretched against a thick wooden beam, pinned to it by nails through his wrists. Thin trickles of blood tracked their way through the muscles of his torso. His feet were bound and nailed to a ground post. _That poses a problem for escaping,_ Hermione's rational mind took over.

Her gaze slipped up to his face, and she was surprised to find he was conscious, and staring back at her, intense eyes burning with pain and triumph.

She hastened over to him and began the process of freeing him. She had to be rough in her haste, but Riddle made no sound as she pulled the nail from his feet. Her heart beat ten to the dozen as she untied the thin cords from around his ankles, wrists and neck. She was certain that this would be her fate if she were discovered. The bloody tracks left by the ropes on Riddle's pale skin stood out starkly in the dim light. Caught by a sudden curiosity, she trailed her finger along the track left on his wrist. His hiss of pain and impatience shook her out of it, and she set to work removing the nails.

Freed, Riddle sank to the floor, trembling. Hermione caught a look at his back, which was covered in deep gashes. He'd lost a lot of blood, she realised. Would he even be able to make it up the stairs?

"Come on, Riddle," she urged. "We don't have much time, we have to go."

He nodded jerkily, and hauled himself up using one of the guard's chairs. Hermione positioned herself next to him and slung his arm over her shoulders. His head turned stiffly, and he looked at her oddly.

"You won't make it out of here on your own," she said.

Slowly they staggered over to the exit. Riddle weighed a tonne, and was leaning heavily on Hermione. She was heartened to note a smirk on his lips as they lumbered past the unconscious guards. _If Riddle couldn't manage a smirk __**then**__ I'd be worried,_ she thought.

They made it to the foot of the stairs, and Hermione almost groaned at the thought of trying to haul Riddle up there. But he gripped the banister firmly and began to climb, Hermione supporting his other side. She risked a glance at his face, and saw it was blank. She knew that each step must be agony, but his impassive mask did not falter. Hermione couldn't help a tiny, traitorous stab of admiration for the man.

With an almighty effort, the pair gained the top of the stairs. Smoke was now issuing from under the library door, and beginning to creep along the landing to their left. Riddle's eyes rolled back in their sockets slightly, but he seemed to master himself, and they headed right, towards the stone door. Depositing Riddle in a darkened alcove, Hermione crept up to the corner around which lay the door.

She stole a quick glance, and saw that there were two muggles, guarding the door; one on each side. Arranging her features into an expression of fright, which wasn't difficult under the circumstances, she hurried up to them.

"Oh thank heavens!" she said. "There's smoke coming from the library, I think there's a fire!"

The muggles looked alarmed, and hurried off in the direction of the library.

Heart thudding in her chest, she sped back to Riddle where he leant with his head resting back against the wall, eyes closed. She hoisted him up unceremoniously, and virtually dragged him round the corner, out of view of the muggles. They made it to the door as cries of 'fire, fire!' began to echo round the halls.

Riddle looked at her, amused. "I'd have thought you'd had enough of fire for one day," he smirked hoarsely.

"What can I say," she murmured. "I'm an idiot Gryffindor, after all."

"Perhaps not all Gryffindors are idiots," he mused.

Hermione snorted. "Don't expect me to say something nice about Slytherins."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Riddle replied. "Put the box in the slot on the door."

"That's it?" she frowned. "You already did that and –," she broke off at the sound of running footsteps.

"Just do it!" hissed Riddle.

"He's gone, get to the door!" the Captain's booming voice was just around the corner.

Hermione wasted no more time; taking the small box from her pocket, she slotted it into the door. The second the box slid home, the door became translucent, and Hermione could make out the shadows of another room behind it.

"Stop!" The Captain had rounded the corner and spotted them.

"Come on," Riddle urged. "Better luck next time, Mrs Cole," he added to the enraged Captain.

She wasn't looking at Riddle, however, but at Hermione.

"Traitor!" she spat.

The word stung Hermione; she was helping the man she'd sworn to destroy, she _was_ a traitor. Seeing her hesitate, Riddle summoned his remaining strength and shoved her through the portal, stumbling through behind her.


End file.
